


A Share of Darkness

by Lindenharp



Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Gen, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 07:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindenharp/pseuds/Lindenharp
Summary: Nick and Schanke have to rescue a young boy from a delusional man with a knife. They take two very different approaches to the problem.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	A Share of Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written in 1994, for a challenge on the _Forever Knight_ email list. The prompt was "put down the snake and we'll talk".
> 
> I have not edited the story, except to correct some misspellings and formatting issues. Take it for what it is: an early effort from a novice writer.

"Look, put down the snake and we'll talk," Schanke coaxed.

The man at center stage got a tighter grip on the motionless green-clad form which was slung over his left shoulder. "Don't move! Don't come any closer!" He pointed his knife reprovingly at Schanke like an elderly school-marm waggling her index finger at a naughty student.

Schanke held out his empty hands in a placating gesture. He remained frozen in place, halfway down the center aisle, where he had been for the past five minutes, or was it five hours? "I'm not going anywhere, buddy, OK? Just put the kid down and—"

"Stop saying that!" the man snapped. "I told you, this is no child! This is the Serpent himself—Satan, the Prince of Darkness, Father of Lies." His voice lowered, as if confiding a secret. "He's deceived you all, taking on the shape of innocence, but I see through his guiles."

"Ok, ok," Schanke said placatingly. "Then put down the snake, so we can discuss this like reasonable people. It's just you and me, now." Thank God that the fruitcake had let the others go. The last thing he needed in a hostage situation was a roomful of hysterical civilians. It was the panicked exodus from the church that had first alerted them to trouble. Parishioners, young and old, and white-robed choir members had fled into the refuge of the night. They had been followed by Reverend Fordham escorting the cast of the year-end Sunday School pageant: a diminutive Adam and Eve in leotards and green felt fig-leaves; a tearful Angel of the Lord, clutching a plastic sword; and the Benson twins in their Cain and Abel costumes, clasping each others' hands tightly as they called out for their mother.

Nick had pulled the Caddy to a screeching halt. "Metro Police. What's going on?"

They were greeted by a babble of voices. "Just one of you!" Schanke bellowed. He scanned the crowd, looking for a person in authority, and spotted Reverend Fordham at the top of the entrance steps. Before Schanke could move towards the pastor, a young woman intercepted him. Her eyes were wild, her face tear-stained. "My Joey! He's got my Joey! He's in there—" she stabbed a finger at the church door, "I didn't want to leave my baby alone with him, but he said he'd hurt him if we didn't go. You have to save my Joey!"

Nick had made a hasty decision. "Schank—you go inside. I'll call for the hostage negotiation team. Keep him talking as long as you can."

And now here he was, in a deserted church auditorium, alone except for a nutcase with a knife and Satan, Prince of Darkness, aka seven-year-old Joey Bradshaw, wearing the snake costume his mother had lovingly sewn for him. Joey was still motionless, as he had been ever since Schanke had entered the room. Only the blinking of his eyes revealed that he was still alive. Too scared to move, Schanke concluded. _Poor little kid._ He thought about his Jenny—only a little older than Joey, after all—in the arms of this fruitcake, and a cold rage began to fill him. _Let this yo-yo slip up once, just once_ , he prayed. _I'll take it from there, God_. Pushing down his anger so that it wouldn't show in his voice, he addressed the man with the knife again. "Why don't you tell me all about it, okay? Start from the beginning."

* * *

Detective Nick Knight walked through the corridors of the church school as softly as a hunting cat, and with the same grim earnestness. He paused to study a fire exit diagram hanging on a wall. _There it was!_ Around the corner, second door on the left. Backstage access to the auditorium. He nodded with satisfaction. Nick pulled open the stage door and paused. He could hear an unfamiliar man's voice, sharp-edged and angry, and then Schanke's calm, flat tones. *Now what?* He had no doubt that he could rush the man before he had time to use the knife, but only at the cost of revealing himself to Schanke. Maybe he should wait for Hostage Negotiation. They were trained for this; they knew all the tricks of extricating a victim safely. Then he heard the madman's voice again, harsher and more strident now. No time! There had to be another way.

Nick stepped into the wings, judging distances. Two steps more would take him to a spot where the man on the stage could see him, but Schanke could not. He took those steps now, at the same time letting all semblance of mortality slip from him. His fangs descended and his eyes burned with golden flames. "You were seeking me?" he called out.

The man spun around seeking the source of the voice. When he saw Nick, a faint moan escaped his mouth.

"You wanted to confront the Lord of Darkness," Nick said harshly. "Here I am before you -- not that sniveling brat in your arms. You dare challenge the Master of Hell? Come then! Slay me if you can—if you dare!"

With a loud, bestial cry, the madman dropped Joey Bradshaw and lunged at Nick, knife extended.

He never had a chance. With one hand, Nick grabbed the man by the collar and held him up like an errant kitten. With the other, he slapped the knife from the would-be killer's grip. Only then did he let himself resume a human appearance. He lowered his captive to the ground. "Metro Police," he said, in an almost pleasant tone, "You're under arrest."

Meanwhile, Schanke had leapt onto the stage to retrieve the little boy. Joey had suffered nothing worse than bruises from being dropped onto the floor. The emotional damage, Schanke guessed, would be harder to assess.

Within minutes, the prisoner had been whisked away by a patrol car, and an effusive Mrs. Bradshaw had insisted on hugging Nick and Schanke several times. She was eventually pried away from them and escorted home by a friend in the choir.

Reverend. Fordham stood in the doorway of the church and shook their hands. "I just don't know how to thank you both."

"All part of a day's work," Schanke assured him. He turned to Nick, "Nice role-playing, partner."

"Oh, I did a little acting when I was younger," Nick said truthfully.

Well, you sure seemed to do a convincing job on _this_ role," Schanke teased. "Natural talent, huh?"

"We all have our share of darkness," the minister interjected, "our inheritance of evil from Adam's Fall."

Schanke glanced back at the stage. "Yeah, but any cop'll tell you -- some of us have a bit more evil than others, Reverend." He glanced at Nick for confirmation, but his partner remained silent.

"But with God's help," Fordham continued, "all of us can be forgiven. No one is so evil as to be beyond His forgiveness."

Schanke glanced at the stage again and smirked, obviously repressing a cynical comment, but Nick caught Fordham's eye. "I hope you're right about that, Reverend," he said quietly, "I hope you're right."

\--- THE END ---

**Author's Note:**

> Readers of my _Lewis_ stories may notice a more-than-passing resemblance between the central premise of this fic and _All Hallow's Eve_. I confess that I did recycle the idea, though I hope that my writing has improved in twenty years.


End file.
